He must say no
by CharcoalGrey
Summary: Arthur knows what he needs to do when Harry asks for Ginny's hand in marriage. This is my first fanfiction, be gentle with me. Rated T for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Weasley contemplates his children and their relationships. He has a difficult decision to make, will he find his own Gryffindor courage?  
My first attempt at fanfiction and it's short. I think it has potential though... shuffles nervously

Arthur Weasley slowly removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand, in an attempt to avert his incipient headache. He leaned back in the comfortable leather chair in the shed and contemplated the frenzied hotbed of hormones and emotions that had seemed to blanket his home since the war had finally ended.

There was grief, of course, the sort of desperate emptiness that came with the death of a much loved child. There was a sort of giddy joy from the wonderful news that Bill and Fleur had shared. Molly had collapsed that mealtime. Arthur smiled as he remembered the quantity of firewhiskey it had required to still her happy hysteria.

Yet with all this tragedy and joy, the aspect of his life he found most worrying was the tangled relationships of his two youngest children.

Without really registering what his hands were doing, Arthur made the muggle office chair plunge, unexpectedly, towards the floor. He chuckled quietly as he remembered the twins demanding to be spun around on this chair as children. Molly had put a stop to it that day Fred and George had snuck into the shed to play and had had an accident that nearly blinded Fred. A wry smile and a stab of loss were stifled.

He had always been the steadying influence to Molly's tempestuousness. His playfulness calmed her need to control. It had made their marriage strong and passionate.

The day was coming, he knew, that Harry was going to ask him. That man, a boy no longer, to whom the greater proportion of his family owed their lives, was going to ask for Ginny's hand in marriage.

And although Arthur could hardly bear to imagine the scene it would cause, he knew that his responsibility as a loving father was to deny that permission. Arthur's head slumped into his hands. Molly was going to kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad!" Charlie's voice called across the garden.

The soft misty dusk of a September's evening enveloped the shed, its windows glowing warmly yellow against the fading light. Arthur slowly stood and stretched, extinguishing some of the flames as he reached the stable door of the shed. Opening just the top half of the door for a moment he called back to his second eldest.

"Charlie, come over here for a second, there's a good man." He retreated back from the door. A safe shelter from the tumult. Charlie's head peered through the open door.

"All right Dad? Mum's getting a bit.." He searched for an appropriate word "excited, in there. I think we need you to come and calm her down. Honestly," he continued wryly pushing his fringe out of his eyes "even the Hungarian Horntail isn't as temperamental as mum."

Arthur smiled "Yes, dealing with your mum has given most of you a love of adrenaline - Bill dealing with goblins, you and dragons, Ginny and quidditch, the twins and…" he stopped realising that he was talking without thinking and that Charlie had paled. "Sorry" Arthur swallowed although the lump in his throat remained. "I can't seem to remember…"

Charlie nodded as he entered the shed and patted his father's arm a trifle awkwardly. Despite the warmth of their family, physical expressions of intimacy were scarce between the boys and their father.

"I know Dad." There was a pause until Charlie continued "Did you want me for something? You called me over."

"Ah, yes," Arthur turned away from Charlie and moved towards the comforting fellytone wires. Gently straightening them and allowing them to bounce back into spirals in his hand felt immensely calming.

"What do you think of Harry and Ginny's relationship?"

There was another pause, Charlie wondering as to the purpose of his father's question.

"Er, I hadn't really thought about it Dad. She seems really happy," he tailed off.

"Ah yes," Arthur nodded, "really happy. Okay."

Charlie had a feeling he was going to regret asking, but took a step towards that precipice.

"Why Dad? I mean, why are you asking me? I haven't had a serious relationship in four years, I don't think I'm exactly qualified to comment."

Arthur smiled sadly at Charlie.

"There's no rush lad. You meet the right person at the time in your life when it's right. You can't force these things - bend the universe to your will. At least," he added in an under-voice "you can, but it won't end well." He started opening and closing boxes that contained empty batteries.

"I don't think Ginny and Harry should get married," he said, verbalising his thoughts to another human being for the first time (although the fellytones had heard it all before). "I think they're rushing into things, overlooking the fact that they have time. Plus, I don't think that Harry can make Ginny truly happy - I think that she's still in love with the idea of love and the thought of 'the boy who lived'. I'm not sure she really knows who Harry really is. I'm not sure any of us really do. He's never allowed himself to just exist and that muggle family of his certainly never allowed him to express his personality. I think that he will alter tremendously now that he no longer has the weight of expectation on his shoulders."

This was the longest speech Charlie could remember his father ever making, but he could see the logic in what he had expressed.

"What are you going to do Dad?"

Arthur sighed heavily.

"I'm going to say no."

Charlie's eyebrows leapt into his hairline.

"No?"

"When Harry asks me for permission to ask Ginny to marry him, I'm going to say no."

"Bloody Hell!" Charlie shook his head in wonder. "Mum is going to kill you!"

"I know," a mirthless laugh from Arthur startled Charlie out of his thoughts. Feeling his father's warm hand on his shoulder he looked at his careworn face, lines of suffering etched around his eyes. "Once more unto the breach dear friend," Arthur gestured to the house.

"What?"

"Henry V by Shakespeare. Hermione lent it to me. It's a fascinating Muggle text about a battle. Henry is calling upon his troops to attack the enemy. Not that I see your mother as the enemy of course," he added as an afterthought, "much."

The kitchen at the Burrow was filled to bursting, the noise level immense. Molly bustling around, wand raised as she sent food to the table, her hair frizzy from the humidity, yet still with a half concealed grin as she considered her children.

At one end of the table sat Bill and Fleur with Victoire asleep in her Moses basket. Bill was pouring Fleur a glass of wine while gently talking to her in a whisper no one else could hear. Next to Fleur was Ron, a rather grim look on his face, his hands wrapped tightly around a glass of firewhiskey. The reason for his expression was sat opposite, Hermione and George. She was laughing, actually laughing, with her head thrown back in delight at something George had said, and what was worse was the expression of confused delight on the traitorous brother's face. He had enjoyed making her laugh Ron could tell, the old Georgie was returning and with it, no doubt, the old flirtatiousness.

"Hermione - how's work?" Ron asked coolly, trying to win her attention.

Arthur noticed and smiled sadly, taking a sip of butterbeer. He moved his head slightly to the right to catch a glimpse of Harry and Ginny. There was Ginny practically sitting on Harry's lap. He had a faint blush (of embarrassment? Arthur wondered) on the rounds of his cheeks as he spoke to Charlie who was sitting opposite to him.

"So here you are at last Arthur. Goodness, you were an age in that shed tonight, is everything all right dear?" Molly spoke quickly, hardly pausing for breath and continuing before he had a chance to respond. "Charlie says he must head back tomorrow and George, well, he's starting to look like his old self, don't you think?" By the time she had stopped and was looking at him for a response Arthur had taken a mouthful of food. Swallowing quickly he replied.

"Hmm yes. Lovely dinner dear. New recipe?" hoping that this would give her thoughts a different turn.

Dinner was finally over and although Ron was still scowling Arthur felt reasonably happy. 'Not long until bedtime, it won't be today' he hummed under his breath. 'Just one more glass of butterbeer…' and he almost skipped into the kitchen in relief.

How he had failed to notice Harry watching him was a mystery.

"Excuse me Gin, I just need to chat with your Dad about work," Harry excused himself. "Might be a while, so, er, if it's late, go on up to bed - you needn't wait up."

"What about work, Harry?" Ginny pouted. "It's still Sunday, you need to be thinking about me. Come on, let's play exploding snap," she patted the seat next to her invitingly. "Don't waste the last few minutes of the weekend on work."

"I can't Gin. It's important. " He pushed his hair back roughly with his right hand "We've still got a whole week before you go back to Hogwarts."

In a temper she turned her shoulder towards him, blocking him out. Clearly she didn't think it was an acceptable excuse, but Harry was fairly certain she'd forgive him later when he could ask her and explain properly.

Merlin, he felt sick. It was as if the anticipation of every exam he'd ever taken and quidditch match he'd played had joined forces. These weren't butterflies in his stomach, these were Blast Ended Skrewts. He pushed open the kitchen door.

"Arthur, could I please have a word with you in private?"


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, I'm thrilled to have had so many people read this little wittering of mine. If I could get some more reviews, that would be lovely. Anything would be great actuallyflutters eyelashes.

And I've also completely forgotten to do any disclaimers. Admit it, you thought I was JKR didn't you? Well, I'm not sobs and I own nothing. Although I would very much like to own the actors from the BBC series of Horrible Histories…

"Arthur, could I please have a word with you in private?"

Arthur gulped, mentally chastising himself for not going to bed earlier. Why had he wanted another Butterbeer? He pulled at the neckline of his purple Weasley jumper feeling suddenly very warm despite the chill of the quiet empty kitchen.

"Oh, hello Harry, didn't see you there." Arthur paused, wondering if he could delay the inevitable in any way. "It's quite late, I was just going to," he cast his mind around searching for an excuse, "check the pans were all clean and then head up to bed…"

Harry smiled at him, a gentle smile that hinted that he understood the reluctance that Arthur was displaying. Although Arthur knew that he didn't.

"I really would prefer to discuss it this evening if you don't mind. You see, its really taken me a lot of courage to get to this point." He smiled at Arthur, "I think I'd rather get it over with!"

"Ah, yes," replied Arthur, almost automatically, his eyes darting around like a trapped rabbit searching for escape. "I quite understand."

He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for Harry as he collapsed into another. Pausing to collect himself he found his hands had framed themselves into a steeple and he felt that he looked rather like a priest awaiting confession.

Harry realised that he had a half smile at Arthur's obvious discomfort, but he was not about to have such an important conversation in the kitchen where they could, and almost certainly would, be interrupted by any one of Ginny's brothers.

"Perhaps we could take a walk, sir? It's a very clear evening, plenty of stars to be seen." Harry gestured to the back door and the garden beyond.

If falling into the chair had felt like the action of a condemned man, forcing himself to leave both it and the relative safety of the kitchen took an effort worthy of Merlin himself. Why had none of the boys yet come in. he wondered, they never normally give me a moment's peace and yet now here I am, positively eager for disturbance and they stay away as quietly as church mice. Damn them!

As he rose, he straightened his back, pulled his shoulders back and extended his chin. It was the classic demeanour of someone preparing themselves for a conflict and that spectacle was not lost on Harry who watched with a mixture of surprise and dismay.

"After you dear boy," Arthur held the door open, ushering Harry with his free arm. Not for a moment did he consider allowing Harry out and then quickly locking the door behind him while sprinting up the stairs to bed. He may have allowed the image to linger in his mind's eye for a moment or two but he never seriously considered it. 'More's the pity' his internal voice muttered.

The weather outside was not as cool as he had expected and the mere act of strolling around whilst wearing his knitted jumper was sufficient to keep him cosy.

"Well then Harry. What's the matter at hand?" There, a nice open question. Now he should just be ready for a torrent of, well, he wasn't quite sure really. Sentimentality at any rate, he supposed.

"Mr Weasley, sir, Arthur," Harry stuttered, suddenly nervous, "I wanted to ask you something very important. Life changing actually, about Ginny and myself."

Here we go thought Arthur. Devastation any moment now. I wonder if I should put up a defensive shield? Does Harry have a temper like Ron? Never know how badly he might take it, he patted his pockets for his wand but discovered only an old mint humbug instead. He's gone quiet, Arthur suddenly realised, turning to look at Harry as they walked. Oh Merlin, I'm going to have to prompt him.

Taking a very deep (and audible) breath, Arthur said encouragingly,

"Yes, Harry?"

I deserve a medal for this Arthur thought to himself. Was this how Molly's father had felt? No, I was accepted with delight, whereas…

"I want to ask for your permission to marry Ginny please sir. I love her and she loves me, I promise that I'll do my very best to always look after her."

Arthur turned and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. A deep sigh this time, so deep it must have emptied his lungs of all their oxygen. He met Harry's eyes which were surprised and a little wary.

"I know that you would do your best Harry. You have never done less that your best in your whole life, and you must know that what I am about to say does not reflect upon my opinion of you as a man in any negative way at all." He paused, seeing the shock in Harry's face and pulling him into walking again.

"The answer Harry is no." Yes, this was just as hard as he'd anticipated. "Not because our family doesn't love you, nor because I feel that you and Ginny are in any way not suited. We owe you ouch an obligation Harry, a debt that cannot be repaid, and yet at this time, I cannot give you the only thing you've ever asked for. Believe me," he paused , his eyes searching Harry's face as it was illuminated by the moonlight, "this is one of those times when the choice is between what is right and what is easy. In ten years time if you feel similarly I'll embroider the bunting for the wedding myself. But to get married now, so young, having lived through so much and with so little normal life under your belts would be a recipe for disaster."

Harry could think of nothing but his need to escape. Now, immediately, to disappear to solitude to think about what Arthur had said. But Harry was still Harry. He still found the breath to say,

"I understand sir. Thank you. And thank you for rejecting me so kindly. I understand what you must feel and I hope that one day things will be different and I'll be able to become part of your family."

With that Harry disapparated, leaving Arthur in the velvet darkness sadly looking at his shoes.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur slowly pulled the door closed behind him as he re-entered the Burrow. A sense of sadness enveloped him as he remembered the look of disappointment on Harry's face. He locked and warded the door as normal, just in case and slowly made his way towards the stairs, passing the children (except that they are no longer children his conscience reminded him) on his way to bed.

Perhaps it was his posture, the slumped shoulders and drooped softness of his face that first alerted Hermione that something was wrong, or perhaps she had merely heard him close the door and was more alert than the others but her sudden question threw him off guard.

"Where's Harry?" Her tone was bright rather than accusing as she gazed straight at his face.

"He, er, needed some air. Don't worry, he'll be in soon," Arthur spoke reassuringly although the flush of pink across his cheekbones certainly suggested he thought otherwise. Why did she have to notice, wondered Arthur almost savagely to himself. The others would have never been so observant, he could have allowed the memory of this dreadful evening to have fallen to the the back of his mind - never to have been retrieved.

"There's nothing wrong is there, Dad? He was only going to talk to you about work?" Ginny asked, catching Hermione's vague sense of unease. "Harry can't be in trouble of any kind, surely?"

"No, no, nothing of that sort at all. Absolutely nothing to worry about at all." Attack is the best form of defence, he thought suddenly. "I wouldn't pry too much. Harry has his pride, he's allowed to keep some aspects of his life a mystery, even from those who love him. It's called respect. Respect and trust your partner. You shouldn't want to control him." He looked at Ginny who was staring somewhat openmouthed at her father. Good job Arthur, he thought, got out of that one. "Well, goodnight everyone," and he slowly gained the stairs, his speed increasing with every flight as he sensed freedom and the oblivion of sleep within his grasp.

"He got you there Gin," crowed Ron a little too triumphantly for Hermione's liking, "Harry's not a boy, he doesn't need you prying into his affairs."

Ginny sent a stare at Ron that caused less physical damage than a hex, but considerably more mental anguish.

"Shut up, Ron. _You_ are hardly a man at all." She stood up, "I'm off to bed, hopefully Harry will already be up there." She threw a dismissive glare at Ron, and left the room which now held only Ron, Hermione and George.

An awkward silence reigned for a few moments, before Hermione nodded her head. She blew through her nose making a small 'huff' of decision.

"Goodnight George, Ronald. I think I'll go home home tonight, after all," and she swiftly disapparated leaving the two Weasleys looking rather disappointed at her exit.

Upstairs there was no sign of Harry. Ginny threw herself into bed, picking at the blankets, punching the pillows in an attempt to make them more comfortable.

"Where the bloody hell are you Harry Potter?" she muttered. When at last she fell asleep her dreams were wild and restless.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

With a soft 'pop' Hermione apparated into Godric's Hollow. Something had happened tonight - all the evidence pointed to something extraordinary. This week Harry had vacillated between giddiness and despair, and although he had said nothing to her, Hermione had, she thought, discerned the reason behind this. She strongly suspected that Harry was building up to propose to Ginny.

"Lumos."

She started to walk through the narrow cobbled streets towards the cottage where it had all begun, the most obvious place to begin her search for her best friend. Frowning, she replayed the evening's events. Harry had been distracted, barely listening to the conversation about the Quidditch World Cup's qualifying matches. Well, in all truth she hadn't exactly been listening either, but Harry loved quidditch, he would normally have keenly debated the strengths of the Scottish beaters, the almost comical inability of the English chasers to score a penalty goal. Hermione flushed. Good Godric, she was actually beginning to understand quidditch. How embarrassing!

Shaking her head quickly, "Harry, come on Hermione, think about Harry. He needs you," she looked around quickly as she realised that she had spoken aloud. Another quick flush, but the street was empty and she continued to talk to herself. "He asked to speak to Arthur in private then didn't return. Knowing Harry he would ask for permission, but then that must mean…" she stopped outside the cottage, touching the gate that caused the house to be revealed.

"He said no," said a figure hunched on the doorstep.

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed as she pushed the stiff gate open, "I'm so sorry."

She walked to the step and motioned to him to move over so that she could share. The evening was getting cooler and seeing that Harry had begun to shiver she wrapped her arms around him comfortingly.

"Did he say why?" she asked tentatively.

"Too young, basically. Ironic really, he and Molly were married at about our age." There was something in Harry's tone that caught Hermione's attention - he didn't sound, well, like someone whose dreams had been shattered.

"How do you feel?" She was trying to look into his face, watch his eyes as he reacted but it was extremely difficult in a village without street-lighting, although the moon was still shining brightly.

"I feel, well, a bit weird," he replied before blowing into his hands to warm them. "I though I would be desperate, defeated. That's why I left so suddenly. I was waiting for this feeling of despair which I obviously I didn't want to show Ginny, but it just hasn't happened. In fact, honestly Hermione, I feel a bit, I dunno, relieved." His arms were crossed on top of his knees and he dipped his chin to rest on his forearms. "I felt it was expected, that everyone at the Burrow was waiting for me to propose, have the wedding and live happily ever after. But I don't feel that I know what it's supposed to feel like! How am I going to ride off into the sunset? At the very least I'd need you to plan my itinerary and Ron to tell inappropriate jokes to stop me getting lonely."

"Ginny loves you Harry, I'm sure of it. She'd help you to figure out the happily ever after." Hermione squeezed his shoulders, "come on, we'll get a chill if we sit here any longer. Lets go back."

"No, not tonight. I need to think, work out what life holds for me if it's not marriage and babies," he turned to Hermione. "Come with me? Just to talk, we could go into London and find an all night cafe. You know me better than anyone, you can help me figure this out."

"An all night cafe?" she queried.

"All the fried egg and chips you can eat," he offered with a half smile.

"Well, with an offer like that , how can I refuse?" She took his arm and they disapparated leaving the gate to the house in Godric's Hollow still slightly ajar.

**Author's note - I'm not sure whether to continue with this fic. I didn't have a plan when I started writing, it's just how the characters have decided to write themselves. I suspect that it might end up Harry/Hermione (although I love the George/Hermione pairing) . Should I carry on? Massive thanks to my reviewers Bigslayerguyman, Sekhmet49, cross-over-lover232, on a ding-a-ling, lilyofthedarkvalley, whatweareafraidof, Beccaccebecca and Dawns Heart. **


	5. Chapter 5

As they walked along Shaftesbury Avenue arm in arm they chatted about inconsequential stuff. It was only 11.30pm so the street was still busy with tourists spilling from the theatres that stood along the famous road. Their happy excited chatter, the looks of joy on their faces was contagious. Turning to Hermione, Harry gave her a small tug.

"This way, I'll race you!"

"Well you'll win of course, I don't," Harry was already sprinting up the street heading for Charing Cross Road. "You complete bloody cheat! I don't know where you are heading for you berk!"

It was surprising how different it felt to run without the horror of capture in the back (or forefront) of ones mind, she thought. That night with the snatchers versus, the dammit, definite twinge of a stitch incipient in her left side…

"Harry! I can't!" bending over, winded, the stitch burning in her side, she was relieved to see Harry jogging back to her. "You….git!" she breathed haltingly.

"Sorry Hermione, I didn't stop to think. Come on, we're nearly there." Harry stooped over to raise Hermione's arms over her head and wrapped one arm around her waist to guide her.

She'd never noticed this tiny cafe before. A constant stream of people made it feel warm and relaxing, and the smell was incredible. Sweet mint and thick dark coffee, spicy and rich.

"It's Moroccan." Harry told her as they found seats. Now that she came to look around she could spot the references, a poster of RV Marseille, tiny golden cups on some of the tables, the bright colours of the cushions. "There's another, Lebanese, just down the road, but that gets really crowded. I thought this would be nice, but we can go into Chinatown if you prefer."

"This is great Harry - really." Hermione snuggled into the velvet plushness of the emerald green chair. "I'm rather disappointed by the lack of fried eggs though," she bluffed, a grin twitching the side of her mouth, "but some mint tea will make up for it."

It didn't take long for Harry to return with a teapot and 2 glass cups, and they stirred the sugar into the tea silently.

"So, what's the plan?" Hermione asked watching Harry's face carefully as she lifted the cup to her mouth. The sweet scented tea filled her with a sense of calm.

"I don't know. I don't feel I know anything anymore. Who am I Hermione? I'm not the Chosen One anymore, that's ended. What's my purpose in life? How do I learn to deal with the everyday little problems now that death isn't hiding behind every shadow? it feels so strange. I don't know whether to ask to go back to Hogwarts or if I should make a start as a new person with a whole new, not predetermined, destiny." He took a sip of tea. "I just don't want to trade on the whole 'eternal glory' stuff forever, y'know?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes focussed on her hands which were tightly clasped around her mint tea.

"I know. I don't want a job just for being your friend," he started to interrupt but she gestured to him to be quiet, "oh, I know I'm quite clever and everything, but I'm scared. Scared that I'll marry the first person I ever kissed and wake up in 20 years wondering who I am and how life shrank to domesticity. If in fact there could ever be domestic bliss between Ronald and I." She shook her head. "I worry that I am so desperate to be accepted by the wizarding world that I'm willing to subjugate my whole personality to fit in. Ron's already talking about children and staying at home, baking. I'm hardly more than a child myself! I want to experience life more first."

Harry found himself agreeing as she spoke. What was the hurry exactly?

"I was thinking about going to see my parents. Taking a long holiday. Seeing the world a bit. Our world I mean, the muggle world." She gazed at the tea again. "I'd like to see Paris and Rome. Climb the Empire State, see the pyramids. Go whale watching."

Harry was watching her dreamily list her plans and felt the strangest sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a curious knotting sensation, like loss almost.

"Were you planning on going alone?" he asked.

"I think so. Ron wouldn't cope without magic for more than a couple of days, and I'm worried that I'll lose my roots as a muggle. "

"I'd like to come." There, he'd said it.

"Really? You think we should go together? As a group? It would be great if some of the others came too - Dean for example, Ginny!" her excitement threatened to run away with her, "George! It would definitely help him. He's found it so hard since Fred," she gushed, " a gap year for all of us!"

"Woah! If we invite loads of people we have to invite Ron. He'll do his nut otherwise."

"You're right." she sighed. "Molly will too." Her shoulders slumped and she sipped the tea sadly.

"Let's do it anyway," Harry suggested. "What have we got to lose?"

"Well, I reckon you'll get hexed into next year and I'll become intimately acquainted with the bodybind curse followed by a crash course in cooking and cleaning spells. But you're right." She stood up decisively. "We are young, we have time and money. We shall never surrender! Vive la revolution!"

Harry sniffed Hermione's cup to make sure it hadn't been spiked. It smelled ok but he still wasn't sure where that martial light in her eyes had come from.

"Right," she started in the bossy tone he remembered so well. "We are going to go home and tomorrow you will round up the troops for a meeting in the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night. I'm going to hit the travel agencies and bookshops of London for information. Are you with me?"

Harry started laughing, "Are you about to go and use the protean charm to make a load of galleons again?" he asked good naturedly.

"No, I'm off to make some badges. How do you feel about the acronym HOT?"

"I'm not sure I want to know what that stands for Hermione, especially if the first word is Harry."

"Godric, does your egotism know no bounds?" there was a definite toss of the head, "It stands for Hogwarts on Tour if you must know."

* * *

**Hogwarts on Tour? Have I gone mad? er yes. Probably. Blame the Australian government. I do . What do you think? Read and review please…pretty please?**


End file.
